There’s this running joke among my friends about my obsession with the film The Room—that little ol’ gem from confusingly accented writer/director/producer/star Tommy Wiseau. What can I say: I love its inconsistencies, its sincerity, its party dresses and abundance of sensual candles. (I’ve often described the film as just like a Skinemax movie, but with all the non-sex parts stretched out.) So, naturally, when I heard one of my favorite local theaters the Music Box was flying Wiseau out for a series of screenings in Chicago, I immediately called them up and asked if I could be a part of the evening.